Lost in a Coffin's World
by sarahandmarquis
Summary: Erik is dying when his angel returns. E/C. *SPOILER* Happy ending! (If you're expecting something long...sorry). COMPLETE
1. Part 1

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

This is totally different sort of thing for me to write but I thought I would throw it out there and see if ya'll liked it. It will be in several short parts that alternate point of views. I believe everyone can determine who's is who's!

sarahandmarquis

-EC-

A coffin is a box where the mortal remains of men, women, and children of the human race are entombed and sealed under the earth or in a vault. Though I have never considered myself part of that culture, I have always been absolutely fascinated with coffins. They are such elegant things, built to fit the need of every corpse laid into them. They are morbid enough to draw some close and drive others away.

Also, they are ridiculously comfortable for sleeping in. Partly their build but then there is the addition of knowing that if one dies while one sleeps, one shall be properly laid to rest with little trouble upon anyone. I have often remarked that everyone should have a coffin where they reside.

But, no one has ever agreed with me on the subject. Perhaps that is another of my many eccentricities.

This eccentricity, unlike the rest, will follow me past the grave as I now lie in the coffin of my own design, waiting for the Angel of Death, a title I once held, to come and take away whatever soul he could find inside this monster's body.

I have not eaten for days and I don't recall the last time water passed my lips. My belly cries from my neglect but my muscles are too atrophied to twitch, let alone carry me far enough to reach nourishment.

For some time, I have been in a black haze. At the beginning I was still somewhat cognizant but now I have no knowledge of my surroundings and neither do I care.

I have remained in the coffin long enough to utterly soil my garments and the coffin itself but none of it matters. No one will see poor unhappy Erik like this. She isn't even likely to return. As much as I believed in her goodness and faithfulness to return, her young man will never allow her return.

No, Erik will die alone and friendless as he was brought into the world. Many times I have wondered why God ever allowed my parents to come together the night I was conceived. I have always believed, if there was a God, that he created me for his own amusement.

Yet, now, as I lay on my death bed I wonder if he truly is so bad. He can't be as he did grant me two delights before my end. I kissed her forehead and she kissed mine. Indeed, it was the greatest bliss I could ever enjoy and one I thought never to enjoy.

Perhaps there are other pleasures which humans might call far more attractive than a simple brush of the lips against the boney cranium but there isn't for me. A kiss has been my desire all my long life. A simple kiss. The gift I asked for on my fifth birthday, the thing I coveted when the harem girl was brought before me, and the compassion I received before I sent her away.

She. I believe that is the reason of my timely demise. My heart, though abnormally weak, would still keep pounding for many years had it not been for her.

Now, I do not blame her for it. In truth, I thank her in a way. There are worse ways a person or monster can die than of love though I can't think of any at the moment.

No, I cannot blame her for finally laying my worthless carcass to rest in the box where it has periodically lain during the past few decades. Indeed, that was the purpose I had originally intended for my coffin. Yes, this is assuredly for the best.

I have often mused how I should die, usually imagining something grand and spectacular to send me to my final resting place. This, though, is neither grand or spectacular. It is rather boring and fit more for the operas I write. Yet, it is good. What better way for a monster to die then of love? Indeed, it is more than good. It is perfect.

It is so dark and I am so cold. I had always thought I would go to hell and if I were truly fortunate, something I had never been, I would go to heaven. But, my surroundings right now are neither of those places. Had I been in error?

Is death not all I had thought it to be? My fascination with coffins is nothing to my fascination with death and I had sought to learn about that point in a human's life when the body detaches from the soul and spirit. Oft had I wondered what it might be like and now, I am disappointed. Let cold and lonely with my memories didn't sound like the way I wanted to spend my eternity.

The place I am in is neither heaven nor hell. Perhaps it is a place created just for murderous freaks like me for whom hell is too good. Yes, that had to be it. That is the answer. And, it is indeed the worst torture to be lost and trapped with one's painful memories.

Even though it is a horrible place to be, I am happy in a way. She at least would be free of me. She would be able to marry her boy without a pang of conscience. She was truly a good girl and would have stayed and tried to make me happy if I had required it of her.

But, truly, I had no right to cut her wings. She deserved everything that I couldn't give her: light, freedom, and innocence. Even my love for her wasn't pure. It was dark and obsessive in its bent. It would hardly be fair to her to condemn her to a fate with a husband like that.

No, she is better off with her boy. He will care for her and make her royalty. She will never want for a thing. He didn't understand her love of music but he did enjoy hearing her sing. It was a comfort to me to know she wouldn't be forced to stop singing.

Speaking of singing, I'm hearing singing. It sounds like the voice of an angel but surely, I'm not in heaven. That will never be a place my unholy soul is taken. It sounds beautiful and familiar and soon I saw a vision in white approaching me. The closer it drew to me, I more I saw of the form and was relieved and surprised to see it was an angel. Her eyes are a sapphire blue and her hair a rich gold. Her face is a blur but I knew it was beautiful. There was no way it could be anything save beautiful.

She draws even closer and reaches forth one pale hand to towards me. My heart is crying to feel the tender touch of her slender extremity. I had too long been without gentle contact. Perhaps I had been spent to heaven by accident. I didn't dare to doubt this angel. I may very quickly find myself lost in the pit of fire and so I would waste no time by doubting.

She lightly touches me, the contact nothing more than a light breeze against my skin but it sends pleasurable feelings coursing through me. I want nothing more than to grasp her hand and hold it close to me but, perhaps it is better if I don't. Surely my touch would change her into a demon. I am hardly a safe man to caress.

Her touch remains for a the shortest of moments before she begins to fade again. I couldn't cry so my heart bleeds and I silently scream for her to return. Nevertheless, I fail and she fades away completely into the blackness of the place I am.

Never in all my days have I felt such pain. It was as if the angel had ripped out my heart when she left, leaving only the blooding hole where the beating organ once laid. What hurts more is that I cannot cry. I cannot release the pain and it burns deep into me.


	2. Part 2

I look down into the amethyst-lined coffin and begin to weep freely. I have done this to him. I have laid a good strong man low. He seems to see me for a moment as his golden eyes stare up into mine, then, the recognition leaves and tears begin to flood down his cheeks, a moan of pain leaving his mouth. But, it isn't a moan of physical pain but emotion pain.

I stroke his sunken cheek and lean over him, watching as my tears strike his face. He seems to have lost all knowledge of his surroundings. I know not how long he has been laying here but there is little doubt that it has been under two days. Indeed, he is quite a mess. The sickening smell drew me to his side and I nearly believed him dead until his eyes opened and he gazed up at me.

I do not believe he truly knew who I was. his recognition was just of my presence but not of who I was.

I am a small woman, no taller than five feet four inches but I know I have no help in this underground lair. I must take care of him. I have found him before he died and now that Raoul has released me, I know I mustn't leave my angel ever again.

With shaking hands, I slip my arms under his body and drag his incoherent form out of the coffin, a place morbid enough for him but far too morbid for me. I would much prefer him in a proper bed. I struggle a great deal but I finally manage to carry him into the lavatory and begin to bath him. The smell gets to me very quickly but I block it out. I mustn't quit.

I don't quit. Sometime later, despite the immense embarrassment I felt from seeing a man completely nude for the first time in my life, I managed to redress him and carry him into my old bedroom, laying him down on the bed and covering him with blankets. I have made it mostly easy for myself to care for him and once he is situated, I made myself at home in his little house.


	3. Part 3

I'm still in the darkness of whatever place I am. It is so dark but I am not cold. I am warm. Though my situation has not changed, I feel safer, warmer, more secure. There is humming and sweet singing going on though I cannot know where it comes from. Perhaps it is a thing not for lost souls like myself to know.

What I want is to see that angel again. Her appearance is now even fading from my mind but I know she was beautiful! She seemed so kind and I desire to see her once more. Her feathery touch was so soothing. I only wish she hadn't left. Perhaps she will come to see me again. until then, I must wait. But, is there even time in this place? I am confused and I hurt. I hurt greatly. I only want to get out of this place. Then, again, I don't. At least here I'm jeered at. Neither do I have to worry about mortal things.

Perhaps it is better for me to be like this.

As I begin to think I have lost myself in the darkness, I see the vision in white coming back towards me. My angel has returned and I wonder how I ever could have forgotten her beautiful features. Again her hand lightly brushes me and I relax, gazing into her blue eyes.

She is saying something to me but I can't understand it. A fog has settled over my brain and I cannot register the meaning of her mouth movements. I long to know what she is saying but I can do nothing to act on that longing. Her voice is so beautiful though. Beautiful as her face.

When I don't respond to her words, she frowns, her pretty face dropping. Again, she lightly brushes me with her fingertips and I crave to hold it closer to me so I might feel it better. She says something and again begins to fade. I feel myself succumbing to the panic I felt when she first left. At last, she completely fades away as the blackness takes over again.

My heart begins to bleed again.


	4. Part 4

I watch as he retreats back into the emptiness he was living in and know there is no way I will ever acquire from him verbal consent for food. I don't want him to starve but neither do I want to choke him. I decide to gently give him liquid that might begin to bring him back. It is possible his lack of food consumption has brought him this low.

Careful not to harm myself in anyway, I fix some warm broth for him and return to his room, biting my lip to keep from shedding tears at his prostate form. Quietly, I sit down beside my love and after sitting him upright, I begin to feed him. His body still corporates and the food is quickly consumed.

When the bowl is empty, I return it to the kitchen and then return to his side to watch him, praying that he will wake. His still face doesn't scare me anymore. He is beautiful to my eyes even though his face resembles that of a long-dead corpse. His beauty is different than others but that doesn't make it less beautiful.

I lightly stroke the yellowed skin and even bestow a soft kiss upon his forehead. Tears slip from his eyes and I quickly brush them away. He must still be able to sense my presence.

"I love you." I whisper every so quietly and stand, leaving him alone as I go make myself something more substantial. It won't help him if I let myself weaken.


	5. Part 5

I have imagined the most delightful scenario in my head. Perhaps the rest of eternity will be filled with them. It would be pleasant to enjoy those dreams that weren't memories. I am sure how I heard as I haven't been able to hear anything except singing ever since slipping into the dark world I am in.

But, I heard a beautiful voice, the voice that had been singing, say something I hadn't ever heard therefore it couldn't be a memory. The words of love struck deep within me and called something from me. it even chased away some of the black haze, leaving only a gray mess swirling around me.

My angel hasn't returned and I wonder why she hasn't. I hope the words the stranger spoke hasn't chased her away. I would prefer to see her then have the strange declare love I could no doubt never return. One can't love someone one cannot see or know.

Perhaps my angel will return and tell me what is happening. I want to see her and hear her. I long for that contact. I wonder if I might be falling in love with her but I am not positive if a soul can love an Angel. It sounds much like the forbidden romance that most operas are built around and those never end well. I have no wish to become the latest opera of the afterlife.


	6. Part 6

It has been three weeks since I began caring for my love and he has yet to awake. He lays there, motionless on my old bed. If it weren't for my constant provision of nourishment, he would have long ago wasted away. I frequently bathe him, having learned how to clean him and change him in the bed. I do not want him lying in his own filth.

He has periodically had a fever which I had to break. In truth, I may go mad in caring for him long before he ever wakes. I had often, whenever his eyes are open, pleaded with his empty stare for him to return to me. Usually though, after a while his eyes close and don't reopen.

I have sung every song in my repertoire until my throat was hoarse and I couldn't sing another note but still he doesn't wake. The man was always stubborn but I never imagined his inert body would be just as stubborn. His face has been kissed and my love confessed so thoroughly that one must think I'm mad. All I ever say his how much I love him and desire him to return to me.

Perhaps Raoul was correct, perhaps I was truly mad. I had condemned myself to a life well beneath the surface of the earth to care for a man who may never wake. He has often visited me and begged me to return. I know he loves me greatly but I don't wish to return and he loves me too much to deny me my heart's desire.

So, here I sit, weeping and about to resume my begging. I am truly pathetic.


	7. Part 7

Again, as the never-ending grayness threatens to take over me, I see my angel of light drawing near. She has visited me frequently in the dark world I exist within. At first she was mostly happy but as time went on, her face was stained with tears and she seemed to want me to follow her. But, doesn't she know that I can't? I have no way to move. No way to come with her, though desire it I do.

My heart bleeds as I see her come and once again begin begging me to follow her. She cries to me and begs me to do thing I cannot do and says things an angel shouldn't say. She often declares that I'm all she has left. Why she says such things escapes me. She has all the other angels to keep her company. Why should she attach herself to the floating soul of deformed killer? Doesn't she had healthier things to do?

She reaches forward and I hear her voice calling to me and I hear what she says,

"Erik, come back to me. Leave this dark world behind. You're all I have left in this world. Raoul is gone. I am free! I came back to you." I feel her touching me, grasping at me, her touch far more solid than that first times when it was nothing more than a whisper against my skin.

I feel as if I should know her and should know the name she just mentioned, but I don't. I have forgotten many things what I was before I came here but I remember enough to know what I was though I have long forgotten others that were part of my narrative.

"Erik! Please!" She reaches forward and touches me. I wanted to look down and see what she was touching but I could not. I could only stare at her face, not a dislikable face, believe me! She cries out in despair when I don't respond and suddenly presses her perfect lips against me.

Before I even had the time to relish the kiss, she and the black world I had been living in is gone and I am suddenly and I feel the fierceness of lips touching and searching mine. My eyes snapped open and I beheld the love of my life kissing my lips.

Christine.


	8. Part 8

I know the moment I at last rouse him from his stupor. His lips which had been completely unresponsive, froze. His whole body goes stiff and I pull away gently, looking down into his eyes which were fixed on me.

He seems confused and uncertain and I am unsure what to do or say. We are both silent for a moment as we stare at each other. He lightly strokes my cheek and gasps quietly.

"Christine…" He seems unable to say anything more and I am still crying but now it's tears of joy. I gently capture his lips in mine and hush him.

"Quiet." He is awake and that is all I need at the moment. I part from him and smile at him. He looks adorably confused and I just desire to kiss him once again, a desire I quickly follow through with. His lips are warm and, I daresay, sweet in their own right. He responds to me but I believe it is merely a natural reaction to being kissed.


	9. Part 9

I have no idea what Christine is doing to me. Her lips caressing mine is a fantasy of mine but I never thought it to be a reality. Perhaps this is another dream? It can't be a memory but it might be a dream. If it is a dream, then I shall make the most of it and enjoy her every touch.

When our lips part long enough for me to gasp a full sentence, I whisper,

"Christine! Christine…I love you." I don't know what drew the words from my mouth. They must fall most unpleasant upon her ears. The sworn love of a monster. She just laughs and smiles, tears flowing down her cheeks but they appear to be tears of happiness.

"Erik…oh, my Erik! I love you." She whispers as she again claims my lips as her prize for her confession. I don't understand what she means. I cannot comprehend her loving me. perhaps she will explain. Perhaps it is all a dream but I will learn all that later.

For now, I enjoy the kisses of my love.


	10. Part 10

I have always felt that, despite our years together, he has never completely believed in my love and acceptance. After several days of kisses and reassurances, he believed enough to propose again, marrying me within hours of my agreement.

Even after the birth of our three children, I always regretted those months before my return when all I did was betray his faithful heart. Perhaps he will never trust me completely for it all but, at least, he trusts me enough right now, to declare his love with boldness and claim me without hesitation. While, the smallest hints of doubts and distrust still linger to this day, they are small.

My husband never returned to his coffin, preferring to remain pressed against my small body while we slept and there was no room for two in the grim structure. Even now, as I rest in my plush bed within a normal room within a normal house aboveground, his arms are locked tightly around my middle and my head nestled on his bony shoulder.

Not that I would change any of it for the world. The sun shines through and illumines his face, removing much of the shadows and softening the harsh planes of his vestige, making him almost appear normal, yea, even beautiful.


	11. Part 11

She doesn't know how lovely she looks with her head so snuggly laying on my shoulder with the sun behind, glowing through her blond curls. Her blue eyes match the lightening sky and I smile softly to remember all the emotions I have seen fly through them throughout our lengthy marriage.

To this day, I know she feels guilty over her actions but I don't hold them against her anymore! How could I! Every day, she makes up for any pain I experienced at her hands ten, nay, a hundred times over. She is always there with a warm smile and sweet kiss. How can she think that I wouldn't forgive her when she grants me such sweet liberties!

Yet, my darling wife does no matter how much I try to change her mind against it. She is a stubborn little thing when her mind is set on something, a trait our children received from her despite her many retorts that they received it from me.

Perhaps they received it from us both.

But, it truly doesn't matter. Not now. Not as I hold my wife close to me, the sunlight bathing the pair of us. So different from the time when she merely a blurred image in my addled brain. Back when I was lost in the coffin's world.


End file.
